The image, already fuzzy, in your head
Begins to fade into that darkness behind your sockets.
No longer are you floating on a cloud
With a numb body.
The crick in your neck
Can be felt again, and demands your attention.
And somehow black has already morphed into red
Behind those heavy eyelids.
Wrapped tortilla style in Egyptian cotton
So warm and cozy that
Moving
Would be a sin.
Eyes sewn shut
With their own crusted juices.
The shrink said to “…just enjoy it all.”
“While it lasts,” is what he forgot.
There is No April 14, 2036
All of man’s work will be done
12 hours,
41 Minutes,
And 23 seconds.